


Strong Enough to Mend

by notaredshirt



Series: Charlie Is My Darling [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: A baby - Freeform, Alpha Clint Barton, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe, Broken Bones, Coulson being a Daddy, Dubious Consent, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Forced Pregnancy, Human Trafficking, Kidnapping, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Phil Coulson, Past Torture, Post Mpreg, Pre-Avengers (2012)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-23
Updated: 2013-11-23
Packaged: 2018-01-02 09:29:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1055181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notaredshirt/pseuds/notaredshirt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Twelve months later, Phil comes face to face with his mystery alpha for the first time since they were paired together for his heat. (He'll be having words with Fury about that later.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strong Enough to Mend

**Author's Note:**

> There are parts of this fic that can be considered NON-CON, but in my opinion, a society with a biological mating imperative would regard sexual encounters with strangers as the norm, so I'm classifying it as dub-con. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. If you have concerns, feel free to message me with any questions.  
> Thanks to my brilliant beta, ereshai, for her invaluable suggestions. I can't thank you enough.

The door clicked shut behind him. Phil pushed away the urge to open it again and set the carrier and diaper bag down on Nick’s desk, reminding himself that he was perfectly safe in Nick’s office, surrounded by SHIELD agents. Unbuckling the various harnesses, he lifted his son out of his seat and held him against his shoulder while he tugged at the bag’s zipper. Shooting Nick an expectant glance, Phil pushed the bag toward him. “A little help?” 

Nick smirked at him and stood, leaning over the desk to pluck Charlie out of Phil’s arms. “You’re his dad, you do it.” 

“And you’re his godfather; make yourself useful.” A scowl crossed Phil’s face briefly; the exhaustion and stress of caring for a baby while keeping up with his normal work schedule was wearing him out. With both hands free, getting the formula and bottle out of the bag and heated wasn’t a problem. He lifted his head, another playful comment on the tip of his tongue , only to feel his shoulders relax and a smile curl his lips up as he watched Nick make silly faces at his godson. The baby was squirming and giggling, reaching up to tug on Nick’s lips and nose as his legs kicked out against Nick’s chest in excitement. The months of exhausting pregnancy -being sick and in pain and growing steadily less independent- had been difficult in the extreme, not the least because he’d been alone, just him and the imminent threat of a newborn, until Nick had packed Phil up and moved him into Nick’s spare bedroom. There had never been anything but deep affection between them- the kind that came from years of pulling each other out of shitholes and patching each other up in slightly less shitty hovels. Having his support, even when it just meant he had someone to help him off the couch, had done wonders for Phil’s mental and physical health, and the rest of the pregnancy had been, if not easy, at least tolerable. And now his son had a doting uncle who was perfectly willing to hold him when his father needed a break. 

Phil removed the bottle from the warmer and pulled up his sleeve, testing the formula’s temperature against his wrist. “I can guess, but I’d rather you come out and tell me why you wanted to talk to me,” Phil said as he approached the desk, handing the bottle to Nick before taking a seat in one of the uncomfortable chairs in front of it. Nick tried to discourage people from spending too much time talking to him, so it was either stand or use one of the too-hard, too-upright chairs available. In the corner of the room was a heavy, soft, upholstered chair, Phil’s usual seat, but he couldn’t bring himself to drag it over to the desk so he was forced to perch on the edge of one of the straightbacks.

“Barton needs a new handler,” Nick said without taking his attention off Charlie, who was making happy, sleepy baby noises as he sucked at the bottle. “He’s gone through everyone else. I know you said you were done with babysitting agents, but Sitwell was his last handler and he thinks the two of you would be a good fit.” Lifting his head slightly, Nick stared Phil down, his expression hard. “If he doesn’t start pulling his shit together we’re going to have to consider some unfavorable options.”

Phil’s eyes were on Charlie, but his mind was drifting. He’d never actually met Barton, hadn’t even seen him in passing. They were in completely different divisions so it wasn’t that much of a surprise, but it would have been useful to know anything at all about the man before accepting the position as his handler. Phil tracked the movement of Nick’s elbow where it nudged a folder on the desk and he pulled the chair to the desk to take a closer look. 

The tab showed Barton’s name and it was easily an inch thick- far thicker than it should have been, considering how little time Barton had been at SHIELD. It was already open to the performance evaluation pages -Phil smiled a little at the proof of how well Nick knew him- and Phil skimmed through ten pages before shuffling further back to read Jasper’s evaluation of him. “Overall, he seems to be an excellent agent,” Phil murmured, drumming his fingers against the desk. “I’m surprised Jasper couldn’t make it work; he’s remarkably easygoing, especially with the ones that make him laugh on comms.” 

Nick nodded and pulled the bottle away from Charlie’s mouth to let him catch his breath before pushing the nipple back between his lips. “Are you sure this is your kid?” he teased, the same thing he’d been asking Phil for months, since Charlie had come out blond and blue-eyed and desperately greedy for food and attention -something he still hadn’t grown out of, much to their amusement. He smirked at Phil who gave him a mock reproachful look, then sobered and nodded at the file. “You know we found him at the same compound we saved you from?” 

A shiver raced down Phil’s spine and he shifted to cover his shudder, forcing back the memories of the days of torture and then- Phil nodded. “Is it PTSD, then?” Flipping back to the beginning of the file, he laid out the psychologist’s reports of Barton’s mental wellbeing, but lifted his eyes to Nick’s again. 

“He’s an alpha, and we know he was there longer than you, but not how he got there or what they did to him before they started using him as their brood sire, so I wouldn’t be surprised” Phil shuddered again and Nick shot him a brief apologetic look. He knew Phil was still working through his own trauma from his capture, the least of which had been going through his heat with an unknown alpha. The drugs they’d pumped into his system, though, and the unplanned pregnancy; those he could have done without. 

When the birth rates had started plummeting, free fertility drugs and healthcare would have greatly minimized the damage, but illegal breeding farms like the one Phil had been imprisoned in began kidnapping omegas. Phil had been lucky; he had powerful friends who wouldn’t let him be used as a baby factory for profit, but thousands of others had been, and with wealthy couples unable to have children of their own, babies had become a hot commodity on the black market. The kidnapped omegas would have to watch as their newborns were taken away, already sold to rich couples, knowing they would be starting the process all over again as soon as their captors could make it happen. It was a horrific process, and given his own unwilling participation, Phil was just grateful that the government had finally started taking action.

Watching Nick patiently burping the physical evidence of Phil’s own stay at the facility, Phil wasn’t grateful, necessarily, but he did love his son and he wouldn’t change what happened, not if it meant living without Charlie. Running his fingers down Baton’s file, Phil propped his chin on his palm and read through the psych report. It was pretty bare bones, and it was obvious Barton had only opened up about the things he knew he couldn’t -or wouldn’t be able to- hide. 

Phil was still reading the file, flipping back and forth between reports from Barton’s handlers, the other specialists, and medical when a knock sounded on the door. Nick ducked down to put Charlie back in his carrier before calling, “Come in.” Judging by Nick’s smirk, he had been expecting this interruption which meant it was either Jasper or Barton. Phil glared at him. 

“You wanted to see me, sir?” 

Not Jasper. Phil turned to look at his new asset -because Nick had his number and knew there was no way Phil would turn the request down- and froze; the shock on Barton’s face was unexpected, and with Charlie so vulnerable, it sent Phil into high alert. A brief sensation of recognition slid through Phil’s mind before disappearing back into the place he kept the drug-haze memories from the facility. Phil blinked, breaking their eye contact and Barton sucked in a deep breath.

“Honey?” As soon as the word left Barton’s lips he flushed and his face closed off a little, shutting down on his embarrassment. None of that mattered, though, because Phil’s face had flushed, too, and his eyes darted down to Barton’s shoulders- shoulders he remembered intimately, hunched above him as he sweated and moaned through his heat and the pressure of a cock sliding inside him, the heat abating with each thrust. The fingers on his right hand had been broken, but his left hand had been free to touch and appreciate the firm muscles beneath his fingers; they were the only memories from his heat Phil cared to recall.

Dragging his eyes up to Barton’s again, Phil cleared his throat. “Phil,” he corrected, all too aware of the way his face heated even more at the reminder that his mystery alpha hadn’t even known his name while they were fucking. It had been deliberate; by the time they’d artificially induced his heat, Phil had already spent nearly four days at the mercy of a man who cared more for the pain he could cause Phil than the information he was supposed to be extracting. He’d had two broken bones in addition to his fingers and plenty of soft tissue damage when they’d thrown him in a tiny room with nothing but a bed and a toilet to suffer through his heat, so it was only natural he’d refused to respond to the alpha they’d thrown into the cell with him. The strange alpha had given his own name -clearly, “Charles” had been fake- but Phil had refused to give his own, knowing it was probably just another ploy to get him to divulge the information they wanted. He’d let the alpha mount him, both of them aware that they’d be shot if they refused, but he hadn’t let more than a moan pass his lips for the three days it took for the heat to subside. Then, it had only been another two until SHIELD had located him and razed the facility to the ground. 

“Phil,” Barton said slowly, the expressionless mask cracking just a little. He was still holding himself stiffly, and he glanced at Fury, then down at the file sitting open behind Phil. His gaze flicked between the file and Phil once more before his face went blank and his posture relaxed abruptly. “This is about my new handler, right?” He was still staring at Phil, but clearly speaking to Fury. 

Nick remained silent and Phil had to wonder how long Nick had known Barton was the sire of the baby sleeping at his feet. After all, it wasn’t difficult to see the resemblance between father and son. A surge of fear swept through Phil’s veins- it would be entirely legal for Barton to take possession of Charlie once a paternity test proved he was the father. As an unbonded omega, Phil’s rights as a parent were practically non-existent as long as the alpha parent could offer proof that the child was theirs. Nick had brought Barton here, though, clearly aware exactly who he was to Phil and Charlie, and hadn’t seen fit to warn Phil at all; if he’d thought Barton would be a threat, Nick would have kept Barton far enough away from Phil that he never would have learned about his son. Phil let himself relax slightly, trusting Nick’s judgment, and nodded.

“Agent Barton,” he started, clearing his throat once to get rid of the tremble that had built up in his chest, “My name is Agent Coulson, and I’ll be your new handler unless you decide you won’t be able to respect an omega you-” Phil couldn't finish that thought; they’d been forced to breed and there was no reason to remind him. No, he wouldn’t bring up pregnancy at all- let Barton think he’d lost the baby or that it hadn’t worked at all and he’d only helped Phil through his heat. Clearing his throat again, Phil glanced down at Barton’s hands -shoved in his pockets, but balled into fists that could be seen easily through his cargo pants- then back up to his eyes. “Unless you decide you can’t take orders from an omega,” he finished, a slight blush making him wish his skin was a little less prone to showing just how embarrassed and anxious he was. 

Barton blinked and nodded, then shook his head and groaned. He slouched down into the chair beside Phil's and stared at him. “I don’t care that you’re an omega, but- will you be alright working with me, knowing I- that I forced you?” 

That was a mess of issues Phil had no desire to get into. It had been years since he’d taken an alpha during his heat. Between work and the typical alpha posturing, he just couldn’t be bothered to try. Not that Phil had a problem letting a stranger help him through a heat; riding out one heat with an alpha and then never seeing them again was common and most omegas swore by one-heat alphas, but Barton was clearly uncomfortable, so he stepped over to Nick’s desk, leaned against it to keep his legs from giving out like Barton’s had, and kept his response short. “It was a bad situation, Barton, and you didn’t have any more choice than I did, so if it won’t be a problem for you-”

“It won’t, sir,” Barton interrupted. He looked immediately apologetic, and Phil had to wonder where his other handlers had seen the irresponsible, insubordinate asshole they’d all complained about in their reports. Then again, Phil was feeling more than a little off-kilter himself, so he would probably figure it out once Barton had pulled himself back together. He seemed to be getting there rather quickly if the way his color was returning to normal was any indication. Barton glanced between Nick and Phil again, and licked his lips before asking, “Permission to speak freely?”

Nick snorted. “You mean you haven’t been?” He waved Barton on, though, and it drew Phil’s eyes to the way Nick’s leg was moving up and down, rocking Charlie’s carrier. Phil’s heart settled to a pace that made him feel a little less frantic. 

Barton turned back to Phil and clenched his hands in his lap, likely a nervous reaction smothered, Phil figured. “Are you… okay?” Again, Phil found himself caught off guard by Barton and blinked in surprise. Barton seemed to find some kind of reproach in the action because he rushed on. “It’s just- you were really out of it and quiet and I never heard anything about you or anyone else at the facility and I was worried-” Visibly gritting his teeth against the urge to keep talking, Barton closed his eyes tight and turned his head away, berating himself if Phil was reading his actions correctly. 

“I’m fine,” Phil said quietly. And he was, mostly. No permanent damage had been done. Well, he had a child to raise thanks in part to Barton, but he just couldn’t classify Charlie as “damage done” to him. Phil knew he couldn’t be the only one who saw the potential for good in this man and he glanced at Nick. His asshole best friend nodded, looking far too smug about how off-balance Phil felt, but he raised an eyebrow at Phil. Rolling his eyes, Phil scratched the side of his neck with his middle finger and ignored the snort from behind him while he called Barton’s name. “I promise you, I’m fine. No lasting harm was done, and I’m not traumatized to be near you again.” Well, not much. 

Barton looked relieved -although the small part of Phil that enjoyed those silly romantic movies swore there was joy and excitement and a little lust in there, too- and shot Phil a small smile. It turned bashful and he looked away again before fixing his gaze on Phil’s abdomen, his eyes slightly out of focus, as if he wasn’t registering where he was looking. “Were you- Did it-” He winced and Phil considered putting him out of his misery, but he’d had nine months of an aching back and swollen feet and cravings for the kinds of foods that made Phil’s stomach turn when he remembered; Barton could handle asking an embarrassing question. “Did you get... pregnant?” he eventually managed to ask, soft enough that if he hadn’t been watching Barton’s mouth he would have attributed the sound to his imagination. 

No matter what other emotions Barton was feeling beneath the embarrassment, the hope was easy to see, and Phil felt guilty, suddenly, for lacking the courage to ask Nick to find Charlie’s father. Phil had already pushed away from the desk and walked around it, just brushing Barton’s shoulder with the sleeve of his jacket, before he realized he’d already made the decision to introduce Barton to his son. Crouching down, Phil pulled Charlie from his carrier with hands steady only from decades of combat experience, lifting his eyes to Nick’s once more for reassurance before standing and walking back around the desk. 

Barton was half out of his chair, twisted around in his seat with his legs tense beneath him like he was getting ready bolt, but his eyes were fixed on Charlie, curled up against Phil’s chest, his hands already gripping the fabric of Phil’s tie. Phil blushed and averted his eyes, realizing suddenly how ridiculous it was that he’d matched his tie to the grey accents on Charlie’s little hoodie. He paused just in front of Barton, anxious about handing his son to an alpha that, despite his intimate knowledge of Phil’s body and his genetic contribution to Charlie’s existence, was still essentially a stranger. Nick sighed and Phil’s shoulders tensed, his eyes still locked on Barton’s face. 

“Barton, if you want to hold the kid you’re gonna have to sit back down,” Nick said, somehow managing to make it both an order and a suggestion at the same time. Despite showing no other signs that he’d heard Nick at all, Barton shifted the chair around to face Phil and sat, his hands clenched in his lap again. This time, Phil was sure it was to keep himself from reaching out, though, and something about the way every line of Barton’s body focused on Charlie and his desperation to touch finally allowed Phil to relax enough to take the final few steps forward.

Phil used one hand to tap Barton’s shoulder where his muscles were bunched, tensed like he was going to fight. “You’re going to have to relax if you want him to keep sleeping long enough for you to hold him.” After that, it was just a matter of instructing Barton on how to hold his arms (”No, loosen up a bit. He’s not an egg, he won’t break, but you still need to be gentle. Curl them like- Yes, that’s right. Now, don’t tense up again.”) and lowering Charlie into his arms slowly enough that when he finally took a step back, Charlie only smacked his lips around his pacifier and turned into the warmth of Barton’s chest. 

That made Phil blush a little; his own memories of curling into the warmth of Barton’s chest were hazy and tinged with the pain of broken bones and a distinct lack of trust. Now that he knew Barton was a good guy, though -if he wasn’t, Nick would have kept a continent between them- Phil could let himself accept that the sex had been good enough that he wouldn’t mind round two, and that was not the kind of thought he should be having around his three month old son. Pushing the memories away, Phil stepped back again, the line of Nick’s desk hard against his thighs, tempting him to lean against it. He couldn’t, though, not with Charlie out of his arms, no matter how gentle Barton was being with him. 

“What’s his name?” Barton asked eventually, his voice hoarse and thick. 

Crossing his arms over his chest, Phil considered lying just to avoid the humiliation of it all, but it wouldn’t take more than a few hours before Barton learned the truth and that would be even worse. “Charles Nicholas Coulson,” he said stiffly.

Barton’s head snapped up and Phil blushed, looking away like it would keep him from feeling the weight of Barton’s gaze. “My mother’s name is Charlotte. He could be named after her.” He could, Phil admitted to himself, but he wasn’t.

An odd intensity took root in Barton’s eyes and he straightened slightly from where he’d hunched over, like he wanted to curl himself around the baby. “Charles was my brother’s name,” he admitted, watching Phil closely. “He was kind of an ass, but now I’m glad I gave it to you.” His eyes dropped to Charlie’s head and thick, callused fingers passed gently over the baby's soft blond hair. “Maybe he'll do better with it than my brother did.” 

“We call him Charlie,” Phil admitted, and bit his lip as Barton’s work-roughened fingers traced delicately over Charlie’s features. He should have expected it- from all accounts, Barton was an artist with a bow in his hands, but it made Phil’s heart flutter all the same. Glancing at Nick and getting another version of the same self-satisfied smirk he’d become so familiar with, Phil found himself relaxing against the desk and watching Barton’s eyes crinkle in pleasure as Charlie’s little fingers wrapped around one of his own. His conception hadn't been under the greatest of circumstances, but he was loved, and judging by the way Phil’s heart beat just a little too fast at the tender expression on Barton’s face, maybe there was still hope for the future.

**Author's Note:**

> if you want to see the hoodie I put Charlie in, [it's here](http://thecornershopblog.files.wordpress.com/2013/01/on-performance-fleece-critter-hoodies-for-baby-doggy.jpg)  
> also, if you have suggestions or prompts for sequels to this, I'd love to hear them. I want to continue it, but I don't know where to start.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [A Rock and a Hard Place](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2602019) by [ereshai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ereshai/pseuds/ereshai)




End file.
